Here I Go Again
by tiny peps
Summary: A book of one-shots and drabbles based around the musical, Rock of Ages.
1. One Way Ticket

**This is just the first of hopefully a long book of Rock of Ages one-shots...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Rock of Ages or any of it's characters *Sob*  
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><p>Regina tossed restlessly against the cool pavement of the Bourbon Room steps, the chains rapped around her slight frame rattling with the motion. Her eyes fluttered open at the touch of a hand on her arm and she sat up, blinking the morning sun out of her eyes. A sad smile twisted at the corners of her lips.<p>

"So, you're off, huh?"

Standing before her, a jean jacket over his shoulders and dark glasses perched on his head was Franz. His smile mirrored her own as he rocked on the balls of his feet, a suitcase in hand.

"One vay ticket." his voice wavered, the catch in his tone making Regina swallow hard to sooth her suddenly dry throat. She scrambled to her feet. This was it, Franz was getting his chance to live his dream. She should be happy for him. Overjoyed!

Then why did she feel so sad?

"Hamburg, here you come!" her cheeks dimpled with a widened smile as her fist shot out, delivering a playful punch to his arm. Franz hid his grimace of pain with a grin, rubbing at the spot on his arm before grasping her hands in his. His eyes darkened, the natural rosiness staining his cheeks fading slightly.

" Ze police are coming back vith orders to arrest all of you." he fretted, his brow drawing together with worry.

Regina sighed, casting a glance over at her still slumbering comrades. They slept in a pile, a tangle of arms, legs, and chains. She could sense their growing annoyance and frustration towards her as if they screamed it in her face, and knew they wouldn't stick it out for much longer. Sleeping on the streets and waking up with gum and cigarette butts in their hair probably wasn't what they had expected when they had originally joined her in protest.

" That's why I'm sending everyone home." she took a step in their direction, her face lightening up with a wicked grin. " Then I'm stepping it up, a little demonstration from the old days!"

Franz chuckled at that, through his stomach twisted with fear for the young woman before him. She could take care of herself, he had learned that long ago, but the thought of Regina facing his father and a squad of officers on her own... it was the last thing he wanted on his mind. He shuffled closer, running the pad of his thumb over her knuckles.

"Regina," he ducked his head, his cheeks flaming. " I think I..."

Regina brought her hand up, silencing him. She nodded. " I know."

She sucked in a breath, releasing his hand from her grasp and stepping back.

" You should go."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Was that her voice, with the trembling edge to it? It certainly didn't sound like herself- everything felt miles away. She blinked rapidly, fighting the itching around her corners of her eyes. Her fist came up in a salute.

" Power, Franz."

Franz smiled, bringing his own fist up as well. " To the proletariat."

He swept her up in a hug, burying his face in her springy, grass scented curls. Her own face was pressed against his chest, shakily inhaling his sweet aroma of peppermint and hoping to keep it branded to her memory. They broke apart and shared a firm nod, he pulling his sunglasses down over his eyes and she clenching her hands tightly.

The couple turned away from each other, to face their own destinies. To reach their own dreams.

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><p><strong>Reviews are pretty kick ass!<strong>


	2. That's Why I Hate Myself for Loving You

**Well, it's taken me a while, but I've finally updated!**

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><p>The lights pulsed and flashed, highlighting the scantily clad women dancing and parading onstage in various hues of reds, pinks, and purples. Music blasted from the speakers, raging guitar solos occasionally punctuated by wailing, gravely vocals- the latest release from Arsenal and their new front man, Joey Primo. The Venus Club was filled to the brim with with men paying shameless ammounts of money for the sights and sounds, to get lost in their own short-lived bliss.<p>

Except for one.

Drew stormed towards the nearest exit, nearly tripping over the pink shag carpeting while doing so. His hands shook, and his eyes burned. There was a sour gall in the back of his throat. He had rushed into the Club with high hopes and an expectant heart, now he felt as is he had been torn into a million pieces.

" Hey, watch it asshole!" a man barked when Drew accidentally bumped into him, drawing his attention away from the tan dancer with dark blond hair and striking blue tights twirling around a silver pole.

"Sorry." Drew muttered, continuing his blind trek all the same.

A desperate voice called to him over the music.

"Drew wait!"

He didn't turn, throwing all of his weight into pushing open the door leading outside. It flew open and drew stumbled out into the humid, evening air. The flashing neon lights of the Sunset Strip, which would normally fill the young man wth a joy and excitment, looked gaudy and cheap to him now.

The voice called again, closer this time. A slim hand grabbed his arm.

"Drew please."

Taking a deep breath, Drew turned around, throwing all of his hurt and anger into a single glare.

There she was, wearing a studded get-up of leather and lace that left nothing to the imagination. Her overly crimped and teased hair stuck to her flushed cheeks in pale whisps, her cream skin sparkled with body glitter. Her fishnet tights had a large run along the front of her thigh, disappearing into her black stiletto boots. Sherrie stared up at him sadly from under false eyelashes- those blue eyes he had formerly compared to a suburban sky were dark pools of confusion.

He was drowning in them.

" What do you want, Sherrie?"

He saw her flinch at his clipped tone, but Drew couldn't care less. The vision he once had of her, all perfection and beauty, was entirely ruined. Now all he could see was Sherrie following Stacee Jaxx into the men's bathroom at the Bourbon Room, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste. Or, more recently, Sherrie straddling the washed-up rock star; both drenched in swaet and breathing heavily.

" Won't you let me explain?"

Her voice pulled Drew back to the present. He frowned at her, his lip curling. Sherrie didn't love him, maybe she once did, but it was all too clear who she really wanted to be with.

" No."

He turned and walked away. Away from everything.


End file.
